Chapter 3: Blood, sweat and tears

"When were you going to tell me this place is killing you?" Dean propped Castiel's head up so he could help him to a little bit of water from Benny's flask. The green eyed man didn't know if it would be of any use, or if any of his friend's angelic powers still worked, but with the number of times the angel had been vomiting or was reduced to dry heaves, he must've needed some rehydration.

"Never if I didn't have to," Castiel stated, the water at least restoring the capacity in his throat to speak without grating his vocal cords. Dean eased him back to the ground, mindful not to jolt his friend's abdominal area. Castiel groaned nevertheless, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from making more noise. He curled up upon himself, shaking hands protecting his stomach. Dean's unhappy grunt came like an echo, almost like mirroring his pain, a moment where the human's realisation that his angel couldn't take much more reinforced itself in his brain. At a loss, he placed a hand on the invalid's shoulder, weary of touching him any more in case it hurt him, but wanting to provide some sort of comfort.

"The way you carried him yesterday bridal style's all romantic, but this one will be better so we can share the load," Benny appeared from behind the trees pulling a makeshift stretcher with him and placing it next to the ailing supernatural being, "you need to lift him on it," he prompted Dean.

The Winchester nodded, "just a little bit of pain and then you won't need to move all day," he promised, easing an arm under Castiel's legs and one round his shoulders, "ready?" Castiel took a deep breath, eyes boring into his once charge's apprehensively, but his expression conveyed the same determination that was so characteristic of him. For the lack of a better response, the hunter took it as a yes.

The angel didn't make a sound this time while Dean manoeuvred him to his side like he knew it hurt the least, but the human's relief over not causing his buddy too much pain was shortlived. Castiel's pale face shone with sweat as his eyes fluttered closed and the shivers intensified. And all they have done was just move him one foot. The hunter looked up at his other friend, sharing a concern. It was clear that Castiel's condition had worsened considerably during the couple of hours Dean needed to rest from carrying his once rescuer. Without needing words to come to an understanding, Benny and Dean lifted the handles of the stretcher up as delicately as possible and started treading even more cautiously so they don't agitate the patient. Vigilance over possible attackers largely aside, the hunter monitored Castiel's reactions as much as possible, slowing down each time the angel clawed at his midsection, coming to a standstill when Castiel shuddered with dry heaves once more.

It was how a group of Leviathan found them, at least half a dozen solidifying at close proximity. Even so, Dean placed the stretcher down as gently as possible before reaching for the purgatory blade he had tucked into his belt.

Small, but plentiful bloodstained teeth showed themselves as the first, closest Leviathan's mouth opened wide in anticipation, locked on its prey-the still incapable of defending himself Castiel. Dean caught Benny's eyes once more briefly before all hell broke loose; his vampire friend sniggered at him, managing to kick one of the approaching monsters in the side to make it collide into his fellow Leviathan, the one nearing his buddy.

The momentary imbalance of the creature was all Dean needed to finish the monster. Nobody was getting in close proximity to his angel. The hunter stepped sideways, his feet at Castiel's shoulder now, covering the ailing soldier as much as he could. For no moment while Dean shifted, turned, parried and fought, did he leave the angel's side open. He more felt than saw Benny taking a similar position at the other side, leaping, spinning, his makeshift purgatory weapon smashing into adversaries with a dynamic dance of well skilled, devastating blows.

Dean held his own, vigilant of any opponents not decapitated rising to their feet again. Benny was grinning, who knows about what as their number of attackers didn't seem to go down even after four of them were beheaded. In just the few whirling seconds the first wave of attackers got dealt with, more had emerged from behind the trees. With no time to spare for fear over the unfairness of the situation, the two buddies launched themselves back into battle, hacking, tearing, destroying everything that stepped into range. Fuelled by his anger as he was, in certain circumstances Dean could've called the run-in fun, piling attackers collapsed on the ground on top of of each other. They could win, they always did, he knew it.

The next thing he felt was a big blow at the back of his head. Still, he was in mid swing, he couldn't stop now. Vision swimming, he swayed a little from side to side, but his severing the enemy's neck was still clean and precise. He had to see the next one and the next one, anticipate their moves, calculate his blows, keep in front of Cas, aid Benny. Except the back of his head was throbbing, darkness crept into the peripheries of his vision and his legs felt like jelly. He swung the blade wildly, more defending himself now than attempting to score a hit. But even that became too much. He was fading, strength flowing out his limbs. Dean could not delay passing out any longer. Like a true hunter, he never let go of his weapon as he fell and he planned where to collapse as well. In a crumpled heap entangled with Cas perhaps was the best place. Of course Benny would've needed a miracle to fight all the attackers off by himself, but for just one more moment Dean could still protect Cas. Afterwards, he would most likely find himself on the next level, in hell again, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Tbc